June 22, 2018

Much more productive day at the studio. Heroic weeding in the front garden–where the primary weed is, surprisingly, rogue violets. Heroic progress on Tub, including the perception that the last 2/3 of the book needs fully to be redone: barking up a whole forest of wrong trees.

Drove to Black Mountain to take a painting to The Flood, which has been restored after–a flood. Handsome man let me in. I wanted to get to know him, but he seemed intent in setting up for the day, and his old blind dog Rosie was watching us. We talked of art and business and didgeridoos. Stopped at an antique store in downtown Black Mountain. Saw an old recipe book I wanted. The price taped to the cover said $18. I said to myself, “not for $18.” At that instant the price tag detached itself and floated to the floor. I did not pick it up. Instead, I went to the check put and said “this.” She went and looked for the price for a minute and, not finding it, said, “How about $8?” I said, “fine.”

 Ate at Gan Shan Station, where an old friend from high school (he was in high school, I was here) now managing the restaurant paid for my lunch

 

Another carpet–the hall runner–off to the cleaner after drenching by poor incontinent Maud, my dear heart.

Awake late into the night, waking late in the morning, which has been, historically, unlike me.